Little Dragon
by Lanfear Lady of Chaos
Summary: Ember is a misfit girl who grew up in the streets after being run from her small village... after quite a few misfortunes, Niko finds her, and takes her to Winding Circle.
1. Thief's Life

OOC: Yet another RPG, this time with three of my friends. I realize that because of the number of authors this may get a bit hairy, but I'll do my best to make it easier for the reader. Everything written as Amber Kaida is mine, anyone else is not. I do not own any of Tamora Pierce's lovely characters or inventions.

Amber had always felt different from the other children in the small village where she was born, a place touched seldom by technologies or even the common academic mages. Touli, her village, was in Sotat, about a week's journey by horse from Hajra. Oh yes, occasionally a child born in the village made their toys move, or pictures appear in the fire, but that was about as irregular is it got. Those who left the village never came back. Who would want to, once they had seen what more the world had to offer? But little of the rest of the world ever came to them… and so, few ever thought of the rest of the world. It had begun when she was only five. Her mother had lit a candle, and set it on the floor to light Amber's play. When she came back, she was shocked to find the little girl cradling the flame in the palm of a hand still chubby with baby fat. Amber hadn't remembered that day, but her mother called her 'Ember' from then on.

It began to get worse on her ninth name-day. It fell on a feast day, and bright bonfires were lit in pits, the smells of roast meat quickly filling the summer air.

x

"Catch!" Ember yelled at Lauren, a close friend of hers. They were playing ball in the night air, waiting for their meal to be ready. Throwing the small stitched ball as far as she could, she laughed, watching her friend tumble backwards in an attempt to catch it.

"Now throw!" she cried, stretching her hands above her hands. Panting, Lauren scrambled to her feet.

"Ha!" Lauren screeched triumphantly as the ball sailed just over her outstretched fingers. She dived backwards without thought. Her laugh of delight was choked off as she began to fall into the ground. Orange filled her vision, with flickers of yellow, red, and licks of blue. Roars cracked the air, matching her screams. It was only a moment before she realized things were not all they should be. All she had ever learned told her she should be writhing in pain- she had seen men with burn scars before. But… she wasn't. What is going on? she thought, sitting up on the glowing coals._It's not even that hot in here… just kind of… ticklish_! She giggled, her hair flying up with the sparks. The fire seemed to whisper in her ears, of comfort, and strength. Then, feeling a dry sort of sliding on her skin, she looked down. Her dress was in flames, curling into specks of ash. A glance beside her showed her ball, half-melted.

"Amber!" screamed a new voice, above the flames. Through gaps in the fire, she saw her mother's face, twisted with fear. Seconds later, buckets of water cascaded down, quenching her new-found friend.

"Mother?" her voice quavered, as strong arms reached down to pull her back into the darkness.

x

She was tired of running. Ember had been running forever, it seemed to her; but then, time seems so long to one so young. Running from her home, her family, her friends… but they weren't her friends anymore. It would take more than time to forget the looks of horror on their faces as she emerged… unscathed… not a burn mark to be seen. They had declared her a witch, unseen for so long in their peaceful village, come to tear them apart…

They had been set upon burning her at the stake, the fools, an ancient practise almost forgotten. The fools hadn't seemed to realize that if one fire hadn't killed her, another would not either… and so she had run from her home as soon as the fire consumed her bonds, leaping through the crowd with her clothes aflame, flapping her arms like the demon they believed she was. In their terror, none had thought to strike her down, and so she had fled…

For awhile it had been easy on her own, as the land was hers; water was there, to wash her fast and quench her thirst, while berry bushes filled her stomach. Then the dogs had come, pups she had stroked as a child set upon her by her neighbours. It was then she caught her first real glimpse of the horrors within her. The scent of burnt meat had followed her for leagues.

It took a month to reach Hajra, even running when she wasn't hitching a ride on the back of a passing wagon, and running when the driver and guards found out. But once she reached the city, dirty, dusty, a month of filth on her face… It didn't take the gangs long to find her, even such a little runt like her.

x

One minute she was alone in the little back alley with her 'attained' apple, the next people surrounded her. "You're in Black Weasel territory, little girl," a tall, skinny boy sneered at her, snatching her supper deftly. He took a bite, speaking the next words through it. "And that ain't good. For you." He snickered. A slip of a girl hit him with the back of her hand, not taking her narrowed eyes off Ember.

"That was good work back there, kid," she whispered, leaning close. "That food-bag didn't even see you." Ember stared back, her innocent eyes round. "Tell ya what," the girl spoke softly. "You help us out… do what we tell ya… and we'll take care of you. I'm Spirit," she said, straightening. "And if you refuse, well…" she glanced at the boy. "Hawk here's been waiting for someone to… practise on." A maniacal gleam appeared in Hawk's eyes.

The innocent look of Ember's eyes quickly turned to one of fear, and she nodded furiously. A slim, pale hand offered a black rag. "Tie it on a arm or leg. Like this," she said, presenting her own arm. Mimicking what she saw, Ember deftly knotted the scrap of fabric over her own rags she called clothes. "And this," Spirit said, smearing something cool next to Ember's eye, making her flinch. Sighing, the gang leader pointed at a black streak next to her own right eye. "It's the other gang marking," she gently explained.

"Now," Spirit said, taking Ember under her arm and beginning to walk, winking over Ember's head at the rest of the gang. "The first thing we gotta do is get you some proper clothes…"

x

"That's the last time you fail us," Hawk jeered, gripping Ember's arm in his huge hand, the burning house a macabre backdrop to the scene. Tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision. She was older than she had been the first time Hawk had threatened her, but so was he, and where she was slim and lithe he was muscle and power. No one would come to her aid, either. Her job was far from their territory, and only Hawk had been assigned to watch her. "You're about to find out what real pain is," he whispered, his eyes glittering darkly. Her eyes flicked to the crude 'x' tattoo on one of her hands.

"Oh, much more than that," he breathed. "More than that." His fist raised, and all Ember knew was blackness.

x

"And I don't want to here ya moanin', either, ya street rat," the guard spat, tossing Ember into a dank cell none too gently. "Yer lucky no one died in that fire," he said darkly, and turned, leaving her alone in the night. Slowly, she opened one eye, wincing. She gingerly raised a hand, touching her face with feather-light caresses. Her other eye was swollen shut, her lip huge. Small cuts covered her right cheek, smudging her gang mark. Hawk had torn off her black rag. Her left arm hung limply at her side at a strange angle, the web between thumb and forefinger smarting with a new tattoo. A small whimper escaped her broken lips when she tried to stand, her leg buckling under her.

"Don't try to stand," a brisk voice said from beyond the bars. "It'll only make it worse." Ember raised her head, wincing at the agony of her body. _Who…_"I am Master Niklaran Goldeye," the man said, as a lantern flared into existence. His dark eyes bored into her light ones. To her, they seemed to eat the light, and at the same time throw it back at her. He raised the lantern above his head, taking a good look at her. Ember curled instinctively into a ball, not wanting him to see the extent of her injuries despite the pain the action caused. If he knew she could not stand… Was he here to beat her? Had the guard heard her whimper? Seeing her fear, the black eyes were suddenly warm.

"I won't hurt you," he whispered, stepping softly forward. "I'm going to take you away from here. Somewhere you'll be safe…" _Is he a gang leader? _she thought, confused._But he's a Bag… what's goin' on?! _Master Nik… what was it? Master Niklaran. He had stooped over her, long, cool fingers tracing a jutting bone on her arm. Ember flinched, sucking air through her teeth. His hand withdrew hastily.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, sympathy in his dark eyes. But sympathy was not something she appreciated, not after five years on the streets. There, sympathy meant pain, or worse.

"Safe," she hissed, throwing caution to the winds. "And you had to wait until just now? Till after they mark me, and me mate near…" she choked on the words, her throat betraying her. Ember looked at the fresh tattoo again, identical to the one on her other hand. Rage flared in her, feeding on her emotions like the fire she loved. "I hate you!" she screamed, clenching her fists. "I hate_everyone!" _Behind her, a thin rag of a blanket on the stone floor burst into flames. Master Niklaran raised his eyebrows in interest, then surprise, and almost fear as Ember's clothes started to smolder. With a wordless cry of fury, she hauled her body up, ignoring the stabs of agony, and swung at him.

Fire flashed before her vision, and the room went dark.

x

"_Just __look _what she has done! Nearly killed us all… it's a wonder we all got out alive!" a frazzled Dedicate cried, gesturing wildly over her shoulder at the smoking ruins of the Dorm. "I_refuse _to have an arsonist in the dorms. I will_not_ have my girls endangered…"

Niko shook his head gently, his black hair mussed. Though it was the black of night, everyone was awake- and with good reason. Girls stood shivering in huddled groups, backs bent against the cool summer night, and Dedicates running around like chickens, hair black with soot. Ember was the only one who smiled, a dreamy grin focused on no one in particular._The fire… it's so beautiful. _But she had more important matters at hand than fire. The girl she had been shouting at when the fire started stared at her with frightened eyes, but worse were the Dedicate's. The woman stood over her, gesturing wildly at Niko over Ember's head, though it was a wonder the woman managed to do that. The Dedicate was short, and Ember by no means was, even if she wasn't tall.

"Look at her! She's smiling! She_likes _what she's done the-" The Dedicate's hand raised in a fist, and Ember braced for the blow. Running away always made the adults want to hit you more. Better just to get it over with… And so she shifted, presenting the arm not in a sling. There was a sound of flesh hitting flesh, and Ember risked a look. Niko had caught the Dedicate's hand in his own, a look of cool fury emanating from him. "I ask you not strike a student in my presence, especially not an injured one, that I have brought myself," he softly spoke, enunciating each syllable carefully. "Leave us," he commanded crisply, and to Ember's surprise she went.

"I know you didn't mean to do this," Niko said quietly, bending his tall frame until they were level. "And you don't have to worry that I'll hurt you," he added seriously, correctly interpreting what she was thinking. He sighed, burying his head in his hands. "I'm getting too old for this," he told the air, and gently took Ember by the elbow, steering her away from the staring eyes of the Dorm. "You may stay at Discipline," he informed her as they began to walk, and Ember stole one last glance back to the glowing wreck_Fire…_


	2. Meetings

OOC: Well, sorry for the delay. Me and my friends took a break for awhile. I will try to post as little as possible of other povs to make the story clearer, but I may have to post more in the future. And yes, the last section does make reference to meeting someone, that will be cleared up in a flashback a little later.

Once again, I only write the Ember bits. Everything else except my friend's characters belongs to Tamora Pierce.

IC:

Ember looked fearfully at this new place, this place Niko said was now home. She didn't believe him. No matter how much he reassured her, she knew it would only be so long until they found out what she _did_, and turned her away as everyone else had done. Or hurt her, even... Her golden eyes seemed too big for her face, still bony and thin despite over two weeks of good food. She had had to eat very little, those first few days in Master Niko's company. She had gotten sick after her first good meal, and was restricted to a thin broth of some sort of meat. It was better than what she had eaten before, at any rate; times were scarce in Emelan. Even for thieves.

The girl looked critically upon the cottage, peaceful in the night, the great fire she had caused far behind them. A woman came out of the front door, smiling. _Not for long,_ Amber thought bitterly, hardening her heart.

"Niko!" the woman cried, embracing him. "It's been too long. How have you been?"

"Not bad at all, Lark," he replied, a grin creeping onto his solemn face, then disappearing as quickly as it had come. "But someone's been having a bad night," he spoke, staring pointedly at Ember. Ember smiled sheepishly, before she remembered her image and glared at the house.

"Ah," the woman said, and cocked her head, considering the girl. "You know, I could swear she reminds me of someone..." Lark trailed off, and suddenly she raised her eyebrows. "Oh yes," she said softly. "I have just the room for you..."

"You remember..."

"Niko. I never forget," Lark chided, and took Ember by the arm. "I think you'll like this room," the woman said, quickly striding back into the house, indignant street rat in tow. Through a warm, airy kitchen and into a hallway they went, until Lark stopped and opened a heavy wooden door. "Go on," she said, giving her a shove.

Ember walked inside, taking in the stone walls and roof, the soft bed in the corner on the scoured wood floor. "The door, bed and floor are spelled against fire, along with everything else in the room," Lark whispered. Ember slowly turned round, tears making her eyes bright.

"Thank you," she breathed, scrubbing hastily at her eyes with a sleeve. There was no pity in the other woman's eyes. Only kindness.

"It was no problem," the Dedicate said simply, her eyes twinkling. "I'll leave you to fix up your room." She left, closing the heavy door behind her. As soon as the latch clicked, Ember leapt onto the bed, burying her face in a soft pillow that smelled slightly of herbs.

_I think I'm gonna like it here._

x

"Well, Atlanta. I think Discipline is the answer, after all." Niko's eyes held amusement as he regarded her sprawled amid the crushed flowers.

_Discipline?_ Atlanta had wondered, indignant. _I fall off a cliff, and he wants to discipline me!_

She had found out soon enough what Discipline really was. Refusing to answer any of her insistent queries, Niko had picked Alta off the ground and led her back to her dorm and instructed her to pack her bags. She did so in a sulky silence. The moment she finished, he had led her briskly down one of the temple's many winding paths.

"What is it, Niko? Why do you refuse to tell me?" Atlanta hurried alongside the mage, a bag jammed full of books hooked over one shoulder. The noble's hair was pulled back messily in the semblance of a bun. Lady Clymene had insisted that she wear the golden curls pinned up elaborately or arranged on her shoulders, as befit a noble. So, naturally, Alta had since worn her hair in whatever way struck her fancy. Today's bun had a twig stuck through the center to hold it together. "Is it forbidden? Is it secret?"

A touch of amusement played across Niko's face. "Suffice to say, Atlanta, that I think this place is better adapted to your needs. There is nothing _forbidden_ or _secret_ about it."

Doggedly—but, of course, incredibly polite—Alta continued, a frown creasing her brow. "Niko, this is about the wind just before the flower beds, isn't it? And—" Alta swallowed and forced herself on, "—the lightning, back at the manse…" Unnoticed, a wind cropped up, gusting against Niko's robes and teasing the girl's hair out of its bun.

Suddenly Niko stopped, gesturing with a smile and completely disregarding Alta's question. "Ah, here it is. Your new home."

Atlanta bit off her reply, taking in the sight. The winds died down. A small cottage was at the end of the path; a look about the place claimed, proudly, that its owners loved it and cared for it. The thatched roof had been changed recently, and the surrounding plants flourished without even a hint of disease or dryness. There was no doubt about it; a feeling of… well… _peace_ emanated from the place.

A woman wearing the robe of an Earth dedicate swept out of the cottage, graceful, smiling and catlike. Her demeanor fit that of the cottage—perhaps not the "catlike" bit—and Atlanta warmed to her immediately. "Niko, Atlanta, welcome! Niko's been hinting at your coming here for quite a while now. I'm glad you've finally arrived." Giving the mage a warm smile, she beckoned with a slim hand and led Alta inside. "My name is Lark, and I'm one of the dedicates who runs Discipline. A few others arrived earlier this week; they should be inside somewhere..."

"Hi, Lark," Alta replied shyly, then fell silent. This was someone she actually wanted to be _liked_ by; consequently, she had no idea of what to say or how to act. Instead, she surveyed her new home. Wooden floors, simple furniture; it was plain, but there was nothing wrong with plain. Plain and functional trumped ornamental and useless, in any case. … And what was that flash of dark red in the hallway?

"Oh, Amber!" Lark's voice rang out. "Amber, this is our newest arrival. Atlanta, this is Amber Kaida." The dedicate's eyes caught movement further down the hall. "And Kalah, there you are."

Alta liked the adults she had met so far at Winding Circle. People her age were a different story altogether. So far, they had either tormented her or ignored her, and she much preferred the latter. Her "noble face" had taken its place now, she realized: the mask with a carefully regulated smile, just enough to be friendly but not quite enough to offer that friendship openly. Nodding, Alta greeted, "Hello; nice to meet you, Amber, Kalah. My name is Atlanta."

The "fa Charis" was deliberately left unmentioned. Both girls had the look of street rat about them, and street rats did not take kindly to nobles. Best that they were kept in the dark, then. If that was possible. Surely the girl Leah hadn't spread the knowledge of her lineage to _everyone_ at Winding Circle?

x

_I_ love _this place. It's so easy to get around…_ The thought came from the dark red head nestled in the roof beams, peering down from her shadowed corner. _And then, by the time that stupid Bag even thinks of where I am… no more hot water!_ A childish grin replaced the look of concentration. _Healthy. Right. Tormenting stupid thorny old Bag…_ But then the head of cropped auburn hair stalked underneath her, and she shrunk into her corner a bit more. Scary _tormenting stupid_ very _thorny old Bag._ Nevertheless, the thought was a bit quieter. Who knew, if someone could be that determined about a bit of washing up, why couldn't they read minds?

Lark passed by purposefully underneath- _at least _someone_ isn't out to get me_- through the kitchen and out the front door. "Niko, Atlanta, welcome!" Great. Someone else new. As if that other urchin wasn't enough… Speaking of the urchin, look who had appeared. Amber eyes stared penetratingly up at her. In spite of herself, Ember grinned. Figures _she_ would know to look up. Ember leaned over slightly, her hair dipping into the light.

She hissed, "Don't you _dare_ tell Thorny where I-"

"Oh, Amber!" Back in the shadow. "Amber…" Gods. She had been found. Sighing, and trying to ignore the smirk on Kalah's face, she dangled down, hanging her head just far enough to see the pair. _The gods must be playing a joke on me,_ she thought as she looked at the noble. What else could she be, neat blond hair, immaculate expensive dress- and she knew expensive. At a sharp look from Lark- and the fact that Rosethorn was storming past the window outside- she swung to the floor, making no attempt to untangle the rat's nest that was her hair.

"It's _Ember_," she drawled, crossing her arms. "Though not that _that _kid would bother to remember a mere street rat's name." Open challenge flamed in her eyes. A flicker of something responded. What, had the girl actually thought Ember would be stupid enough not to know nobility when she saw it? "I have better things to do then grovel," she sneered, turning… straight into an unyielding green habit. Hard, slim fingers clamped down on her ear.

"Young woman or not," Rosethorn snapped, "so Mila help me, I'll drag you by your ear to the baths if I have to." _Gods, she's silent,_ the thief thought in admiration. The grimy youth could do nothing but glare up at her captor and mutter colourfully under her breath. The fingers pinched harder, making her squirm. "And none of _that_ either." Ember's ear twisted and she turned with Rosethorn back to face Lark- and her face flamed when she remembered who else now occupied the house. The street rat's language intensified.


	3. Friends'

Author's note: A short chapter indeed. I just want any readers to know this is NOT dead, we're just still getting started up from the summer.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kalah didn't know it was possible to smirk and frown at the same time. She'd gotten _Amber_ good this time, watching her being dragged painfully off to the baths by Miss. Scary. On the other hand, there was a new person here.

Another noble.

Her half frown then turned into a full fledged scowl. She didn't want to admit it, but similar thoughts had been running through her head as Ember told off the new girl. Memories of why she was in this miserable hut with the other thief in the first place came to mind.

Nobles were nothing but trouble. Giving Atlanta a silent glare, she turned and stalked off to her room down the hall. But not before saying one thing.

"I won't get in your hair if you don't get in mine."

Then she closed the wooden door firmly behind her.

x

"I have better things to do than grovel." … "I won't get in your hair if you won't get in mine." _… Noble good-for-nothing, sitting among the silks while the rest of us work for a living… useful only to buy frivolities, fill the purses of merchants, whiling your lives away…_

Not for the first time, Atlanta fa Charis wished that, just once, she could be liked for who she was instead of hated for her blood.

Blue blood, straight back through the generations, it was a curse upon an innocent girl. Once, in a fit of melodrama, she had convinced herself that the next time an ignorant fool taunted, she would take a knife and spill every drop of that gods-cursed blood from her veins.

Suicide would teach them tolerance, wouldn't it? To not close doors in her face at the merest hint of her lineage? But she never had, of course. After a long, woodsy ramble alone (always alone) and subsequent return to sanity, Alta realized the folly in this and put her mind to thinking more productive thoughts. But the bitter idea still slipped out, at times.

This was one of those times. _Slam._ Door to possibility closed. A careful observer, long acquainted with Atlanta, would have noticed a fracture in her noble's mask, a glint of something that could almost be tears. But there were none here, and a moment later, all traces were gone.

"Is it just the four of you at Discipline?" Alta asked Lark, more perfunctorily than anything else. She looked around the house again, wondered where the stocky

"With you here, we're almost up to our limit," the black-haired woman replied easily. A note of amusement entered her voice. "And with both Rosethorn and Ember under one roof, I think that we're _at_ our limit. But another girl might be coming in a few days."

Alta nodded politely, opening her mouth to begin a sentence, but Lark beat her to it—and anticipated exactly what she was about to ask, eyes sparkling with laughter.

"After such an introduction to us all, you must be ready to settle in. Here, your room is…" The woman began to lead the way into the house, then paused. "Oh, Niko—Rosethorn wanted to talk to you about something. Go see her before she leaves for the bathhouses, please?"

_Rosethorn_, Atlanta repeated to herself, fixing the name in her mind. Graceful and calm, Lark; prickly and sarcastic, Rosethorn. It seemed to fit. Picking up her bag, she followed Lark to her room.

Sunlight streamed into Atlanta's room early the next morning; she must have forgotten to close her blinds. What had remained of the previous day had been spent unpacking, listening as Lark explained some of the customs of Discipline to her, and avoiding the other occupants of the cottage—successfully.

Wanting to continue in this vein, Alta woke immediately and dressed for the day, leaving her hair to fall around her shoulders. She really did have to get some plainer dresses soon. The silks and satins were a dead giveaway.

The rest of Discipline lay asleep. Well, most likely asleep. _That Ember girl is probably already outside killing babies and kicking dogs_, Alta thought bitterly, undoing the latch and stepping out. It was silent in the front garden of Discipline, the sun just rising, the path empty. —No, not empty. As she turned, Atlanta found Niko walking up the path, raising a hand in greeting; her brows shot up in surprise and her mouth curved in a smile.

Which disappeared immediately. Standing next to the mage was the girl who had informed all of Winding Circle that Atlanta was a fa Charis and ruined her chance at normalcy. Leah.

x

Leah jumped quickly out of the wagon that she had been riding in on the way to Discipline. She hurried around to the back before anyone could grab her baggage for her, but when she tried to hoist her one small sack over the edge, a hand came to bar her passage. "That will be done for you," Niko said quietly, "I'm going to give you a short tour of the grounds right now, as you will be staying here for the next while." Grudgingly, Leah followed, all the while green eyes fixed on the old man's back.

"Here is the cottage. As I told you, it is now at it's full capacity of four people with you here. Although we do have four rooms on the bottom two floors, the other teachers and I have decided to put you in the attic." When Leah looked at him like he was insane, he added, "We don't want any more accidents, now. Do we?" She felt her face flush horribly.

"As the only person here who has an affinity for threads, you will be studying with Lark. The other two instructors here are Rosethorn and Frostpine. I don't think you should have much to do with them unless you get into trouble."

Leah began to phase Niko out as he pointed out a few other places around Discipline that she might want to know about. _It's nice here,_ the former servant thought. _I think I might actually like it.And it's _deffinately_ not as bad looking as it's name suggests._ A small smile crept across her pale face.

Unfortunatley, her little blissful moment didn't last long. The pair turned into Discipline's front garden and she froze. There, standing in her fine garments looking as stuck up and regal as ever, was Atlanta fa Charis. Leah grimaced slightly and dropped a curtsy, spreading her plain brown skirts out wide. "Nice to see you again, Miss Charis." she said, a trifle sarcastically. "I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon." _Or ever..._ Still crouched low, she saw another girl running towards them from around Discipline, short red hair somehow managing to fly out behind her. Niko, following her line of sight, saw the girl and smiled.

"That would be Ember." he said, chuckling slightly. " Probably running from a bath or Rosethorn. She's a trouble maker, that one."


End file.
